


I’ll make a hundred paper planes

by SpaceBat (kuraikon)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Pampering, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, basically Geralt is sad and overwhelmed so Jaskier looks after him, jaskier takes care of his witcher, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuraikon/pseuds/SpaceBat
Summary: ’But if Geralt was as unyielding as a tired mule then Jaskier was a fucking dragon.’A short, indulgent piece about Jaskier looking after his Witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 188





	I’ll make a hundred paper planes

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in a sad, lonely mood lately, so this is purely indulgent.

Jaskier saw the signs probably before Geralt registered them himself; the reluctance to get up from their shared bedroll in the mornings, the ever so slight lingering touches, the soft sadness in his eyes. On the road, there was little Jaskier could do and besides, it would be a few days yet till Geralt actually let himself succumb, the stubborn ass. So when they came to a fork in the road and Geralt turned Roach towards the wilderness and away from the dainty looking town, Jaskier dug his heels in hard, huffing and whining and, when those fell flat, demanding civilisation. 

Geralt snapped at him predictably, arguing about lost time, but if Geralt was as unyielding as a tired mule then Jaskier was a fucking dragon, feral and spitting as he stood his ground and managing to get Geralt to relent, though the Witcher stomped his boots as he turned Roach to the path leading to the village. 

Clearly pissed, Geralt stormed to the town hall without a word, snatching a poster for something that didn’t really need a Witcher from the notice board and flinging Roach’s reigns to Jaskier. The bard huffed as he watched the man go, loud enough that Geralt would hear him, and led Roach away to an inn. 

The last thing Jaskier wanted was Geralt in a hunt while in this mood but, really, it would actually be easier to sort things with the man gone and not puffing and refusing as Jaskier set them up in a nicer than usual room once Roach was settled. A few hours playing in the tavern paid for part of their stay, so Jaskier stayed as late as he dared to earn coin enough that Geralt wouldn’t feel too guilty later on. The sun fully set, he turned down further playing to order a bath and food to their room and undressed to his pants and one of Geralt worn shirts, padding around in bare feet as he waited and kept the fire going. 

Geralt arrived not long after, as Jaskier had predicted, and it was obvious enough to the bard that the Witcher had finally realised he was exhausted. Jaskier may have seen the signs of Geralt becoming emotionally drained some days ago but being away from Jaskier has clearly made his Witcher catch on. Wide shoulder slumped when the bath was seen and Geralt’s sad eyes watched Jaskier from the doorway as if waiting permission. Smiling, Jaskier moved forwards, crowding Geralt further into the room and kicking the door shut before swiftly unleashing Geralt from his armour. Getting the man into the steaming bath was no issue, though a hand had found its way to Jaskier’s waist and it was loathe to be removed. 

“Dunk.” Jaskier asked softly, and was immediately obeyed. Geralt said nothing while Jaskier washed his hair and scrubbed the dirt from his body, humming softer as he worked the stiffness from each of Geralt’s muscles in turn and paused occasionally to feed Geralt bits of bread and meat. 

Getting Geralt out of the bath was even easier; he rubbed a thumb behind the man’s ear and left him to soak as he pottered around the room, stoking the fire and tidying the plates while Geralt watched from his bath. When he had turned down the bed and was ready for Geralt to join him, he simply wiggled his way out of his pants and underthings and slipped into bed in nothing but Geralt’s shirt. As he climbed beneath the sheets, he heard the water stir as Geralt removes himself from the tub and smiled to himself at the Witchers predictability. He settled into bed and only had to wait a few minutes before the candles were blown out and a naked, mostly dry, but still bath-warmed body slipped in next to him.

Jaskier opened his arms and the Witcher didn’t hesitate as he curled into the safety of his bard, long hair damp against the stolen shirt. Jaskier felt his face press firm into his neck, deep and shaking breathes being taken as arms curled around him. The bard hushed soothingly, one hand slipping around the back of Geralt’s neck to hold him in place and the other trailing across the bard skin of a muscles back, twisting them so his weight was leaning on Geralt and their legs were entwined.

Small tremors ran through Geralt’s body and Jaskier clung harder. 

“There we are, my wolf.”

He began to hum again, slow classic tunes he could loop mindlessly, letting Geralt take comfort in his steady heartbeat, his comforting smell and his unwavering presence.


End file.
